


PTSD

by fortnightsofren



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types, rexsoka - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, TCW
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2018-04-30
Packaged: 2019-04-30 05:28:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14489805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fortnightsofren/pseuds/fortnightsofren
Summary: Being a solider has gotten to Rex; Ahsoka finds out exactly how when they're asleep one night.





	PTSD

_**PTSD** _

Word Count: 1,263

Era: TCW

Pairings: Rex and Ahsoka

 

Her dual lightsabers flew into her hands. It wasn’t often that she used the Force when not on a mission, but being attacked was an exception. The glow was not activated because she didn’t want to alarm the intruder that she was ready for them. A sudden stream began to paint itself downwards from her nose. Ahsoka flung herself from the bed and snuck into the ‘fresher. She locked the sliding door behind her and switched on a single saber. Blood trickled into her mouth. Someone had struck her. Wiping it away, the injured girl exited the ‘fresher and scanned her room. Nothing. She looked at Rex. He was perfectly undisturbed; steady breathing. Ahsoka sighed and slid back into the bed beside him.

Again, she felt as if she was struck. Except this time, Ahsoka was awake to see who it was. Rex was fretting in his sleep. His skin was sticky and his eyes continuously squeezed. There was blood all over his hand. Her blood.

 

* * *

 

The blinds began to streak the room with daylight. Lightened and darkened bars decorated her chambers; indicating that it was time to get up. With a clean face, Ahsoka peered up and the man who slept next to her. The early Coruscanti sun casted a glow on his skin. She nuzzled her cheek into his bicep; reveling in the relaxation she only got with him.

“Rexster,” Ahsoka poked his cheek, “Rexster wake up.”

The grumpy man grunted and shoved himself away from her.

That got a giggle out of her, “You never sleep this late, silly.”

Rex flung their sheets into the air and pounced on top of his jedi, “Time is something people made up.” Instead of continuing his perhaps witty remark, he paused.

“What?”

“Someone hit you.”

“No they didn’t,” Ahsoka feigned, knowing well that he’d struck her in his sleep.

Rex removed himself from her and took her into her ‘fresher. He stood behind her in the mirror, tall. She looked away from his eyes in the mirror so that she met her own. Two purple fingers were showcased below her eye and half of a handprint wore her right cheek. Those weren’t there last night. She raised her hand to match the hand; revealing that it wasn’t hers. She made no noise.

“Who hit you, Ahsoka? Why didn’t you say anything to me?” he gritted, his chest visibly rising and falling with his anger.

“No one hit me, Rex,” she said shyly, hating herself for lying to him. He’d hate himself if he knew.

He then gripped her arm and held his body flesh against her back. With his other hand, he brought it to her face and splayed his fingers in the way they were shown on her face, and then rested his hand. He held it there for a long while, “One of the _vode_ did this?”

The calmness of his tone terrified her.

Using an expletive not native to him, which was rare, Rex left the mirror, “I’ll fuckin’ kill whoever did this to you.” With that, Rex dressed himself and then left her chambers.

 

* * *

 

She was afraid to leave her chambers for quite some time; worrying someone might stop her and ask about the bruise that painted her face. She swallowed her pride and went to look for Rex, or a mission, or something to do. Soon, she found herself in the library, cloak heavily framing her face. Results on how to get rid of a bruise involved methods she didn’t have access to, and she doubted bacta would help.

On her way out to get some of the “makeup” that the holonet suggested, she ran into an alarmed Fives, leaving the barracks.

“Fives!” Ahsoka gasped upon seeing his face. His nose was bleeding and it looked as if it were also broken. A black eye and a busted lip wasn’t something she was used to seeing on the clone. “What happened to you?” she worried, bringing her hand to his cheek.

The action had prompted the sun to reach her face and Fives removed her hand, “Forget me, Commander, look at you.” The purple mark on her skin fit his hand just right, “This is what he was talking about,” the man trailed off, his usual mischievous demeanor all but disintegrated.

“What are you talking about?”

“Rex came to the barracks,” he revealed and Ahsoka reached into her pocket. She handed him the rest of her bacta and gave him an empathetic look with the eyes and turned towards the barracks.

When she opened the doors, GAR Intel was not stationed at their usual spot and havoc was ensuing in the main room. Blue armor swarmed Rex as he threw punches like a madman. She dropped the cloak and rushed over to the mob of clones, shouting for him. The sea of brothers seemed to move with him, both encouraging and discouraging him from his current actions. The man he was beating fell to the ground.

“Rex!” Ahsoka cried, standing between him and the clone on the floor.

One look at her face, and Rex’s midair fist softened along with his face muscles, “‘Soka…”

She looked away from him and turned towards the helpless soldier that was waking back up.  
“Are you alright?” she asked, bending down.

Hardcase met her gaze and sputtered blood, “M’alright Commander.”

Once he was up and in the care of the other men, she turned back to face the Captain. He knew he was in trouble, as his face was flushed and his posture singular. With a nod of the head, he followed behind her.

 

* * *

 

The walk to her chambers was even more agonizing than usual. They had to simultaneously sneak around and anticipate what would be said. Eventually, though, they made it safely to the door and shut it behind them. The air was stiff and the tension heavy. She could _feel_ his elevated breathing. Rex shuffled and refused her gaze. She took his jaw into her hand and held his face to force his eyes on hers.

“No one touched me, Rex, and I ask you to believe me when I say that,” she bit.

He nodded, “What happened to you Ahsoka? There’s a _handprint_ the size of _my hand_ on your face.”

With a sigh, she sat on the edge of her bed. Rex fell to his knees and lay his head on her lap; she ran her fingers across his scalp, “Exactly.” At that, he looked at her, tears threatening to spill over. He reached up with his hand and held her face again, then collapsing into a fit of sobs.

Ahsoka hugged his head into her stomach and cried with him, “Rex I think you have PTSD.” His face was streaked with tears and hot from the emotion. “Last night, you were having a nightmare … and you accidently got me.”

Her leggings were no longer dry as the suffering man let out all of his woe. “I’m so sorry ‘Soka, I’m so sorry. I messed your beautiful face and it’s because I was afraid to look faulty in front of you. I didn’t want you to worry,” he wrenched out. Her kisses dotted his head and his cheeks, hushing him. Ahsoka pulled him up onto the bed with her and wrapped herself around him. “I suspected you’d had it anyway, Rex. But don’t apologize to me, apologize to Fives and Hardcase.”

He waited a second before adding, “And Jesse.” Again, “And Wolffe is in the med bay.”


End file.
